well it looks like I have reeled in once again. march 13 was the last post of this story. almost a month. I keep getting hooked into these stories and then the author quits writing. oh well I guess I'll learn not to start reading these stories. and just read the one's that are posted as complete. pilgrim

if someone tell you they are an expert, be leary of them. if they tell you they are knowlagable of something.trust them. Remember an ex is a has been and a spert is a drip under pressure. :)

pilgrimtr wrote:well it looks like I have reeled in once again. march 13 was the last post of this story. almost a month. I keep getting hooked into these stories and then the author quits writing. oh well I guess I'll learn not to start reading these stories. and just read the one's that are posted as complete. pilgrim

Pilgrim and others who have read along, my apologies.

I have been slack.

I have been working on it, I have a substantial outline written . . . I just need to sit down and put it to paper.

Again, my apologies.

Beware of the guy with only one Cast Iron pan . . . he likely knows how to use it.

The garden cart wobbled behind Jack as he strained to pull it across the field and up next to the raised bed garden box. The 'box' was more like a five foot wide by fifty foot long rectangle. It was the fourth new raised bed they built since that morning using slab wood they got from the Amish. Originally they were going to use the slab wood to make some rustic chairs, tables, and a coffee table for the back yard. Now their would be patio furniture was going to help them increase their food production. Jack used the back of his work gloves to brush the sweat from his brow. His watch indicated it was in the upper sixties, the barometer was high and holding steady. Hauling cow, goat, and rabbit compost aged for two years from the back of the barn to the new gardens was a work out. Jess was equally sweaty and dirty as she stood in the box, spreading out the compost into a six inch thick layer. They both paused, taking a moment to rest. “What do you think?” Jess asked. “About what?” Jack panted. “The new gardens. Be enough?” “Well, these new four, with the other three that is about 1,750 square feet of planting space. But we are doing the Three Sisters with the corn, the beans and squash. We train the cukes, and melons on the edges of the boxes into the space in between the boxes. So, that can gain us some more planting space. Go vertical where we can.” “Do not forget the runner beans in the containers along the backyard fencing.” “Right, that is another, what, 200 liner feet for beans. The potatoes in the tyre beds did really well last year. Plenty of unused tyres to be had. We can plant beets, carrots, in those too.” He paused. “It can not be worse than last year.” He gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled and they got back to work.

An hour and half and a dozen carts of compost later, Jack and Jess sat down at the picnic table with a pitcher of tea between them. “Thank goodness wild mint comes up so early,” Jess took a sip of the mint tea. “I was getting bored with that industrial tea we traded for.” “It got us through the winter.” “I know.” She sighed, “What I would do for a cup of real coffee. The good stuff. Not that burnt crap in the green and white bag.” “Yeah.” He changed topics, “As long as we do not have any catastrophic incidents, like a drought or flooding, I think we will be ok. We have the gardens. The winter wheat I plated last year will be ready by mid summer. The spring wheat I planted a month or so ago will be ready in late fall. Keep half for flour, the other half for seed.” He took a sip of his tea. “The goats kidded out, doubling the herd size. Sally farrowed ten good looking piglets. Not bad for her first litter.” “The chickens are going to need replaced. This is their third year. We are not getting as many eggs.” “Well, that should settle up our trade with Greg: three gallons of maple syrup, ten cords of seasoned fire wood, cut, split and delivered. And figure forty replacement chicks, half hens, half roos. Should be a good deal for one fully grown hog. In the mean time, we have stew birds for Sunday dinner for fifteen Sundays.” “You know we have never gone though ten cords of wood in a winter. We still have three in the wood shed.” “True enough. But we are cooking with wood nearly every day now. I want to build up a few extra cords every year so we will have two years worth at any given time. We will use whatever dead fall out on our land to cook with.” “Well howdy stranger!” Jess called over Jack's shoulder as Claire was walking up to the picnic table. “Have not seen you in a few days, was beginning to think Jack's stink offended you!” “It should!” Jack said. Claire smiled at the ground, and blushed. “I have been over to your house nearly every day since I came here. I thought maybe you and Jack might like some time alone without me always around.” “Nonsense, Claire! You are always welcome. Have a seat, I will get you a glass for some mint tea. Got to make a head call anyways.” Jack got up and went into the farm house. “I-, I went and saw Mrs. Anderson like you suggested,” Claire said quietly as she took a seat across from Jess. 'Oh?” “Yes. We are going to meet once a week . . . to talk about things.” “Good, that is good.” “Yeah. She said I should start a journal and write down my thoughts . . . if I could find any paper and something to write with.” Claire smiled. Jess gave her a reassuring smile back. “Yes, paper is kind of hard to come by. Who would of thought how valuable it would be. I will keep my eyes out for some at the market for you.” “Oh, no, that is ok. Mrs. Anderson told me I should,” Claire rolled her eyes but blushed, “I should talk out loud about things, and then think on them from a third person point of view.” “Well if that works, then it works right?” “Yeah, but it kind weird pacing around the house talking to myself,” Claire made a face but then smiled and laughed. “What is so funny,” Jack returned, took a seat next to Jess, and poured Claire a glass of tea. “Oh, nothing. Thank you,” Claire said as she took the glass from Jack. “So, what are you two talking about?” Claire changed the conversation. Jack and Jess gave each other a look and then began to laugh. “What else does it seem like we are always talking about,” Jack asked. “Food!” Jess answered. “Speaking of food,” Claire straightened up in her seat and announced proudly, “I made my first rabbit stew last night.” “Hey! Good for you!” “How did it go?” Jess asked. “Well, the slaughtering was not easy. Gutting is just gross, so is skinning. But I am confident I can do it again. And my stew turned out pretty good if I do say so myself. Thank you for the rabbit.” “Hey, no need to say thank you. You earned that rabbit helping Jess muck out the barn while I was out with the livestock.” “The two litters of rabbits we had over the winter will be ready soon. You help us plant seeds tomorrow in trade for your own breed pair. Deal?” Jess held out her hand. “Deal!” Jess and Claire shook. “What are we planting?” “Well, I have a flat of broccoli seedlings, a flat of cabbage seedlings, a flat of beet seedlings that all need transplanted. Then I have two flats of different herb seedlings. Basil, parsley, tarragon, marjoram, and dill. Seeds: chard, carrots, beets, rutabaga, parsnips, lettuce, and some others I am forgetting.” “That is a lot.” “We are expanding,” Jess explained, “Last year was rough. Like 'are we going to make it?' rough.” “We got a late start with the gardens,” Jack added. “Why is that?” Claire asked. Both Jess and Jack went quiet. Their bodies seemed to stiffen. “Some things happened last year,” Jack said quietly and glanced down at the table. He did not offer further explanation. “The War?” Claire pressed. Jack's head snapped up, then he looked to Jess. Neither said anything. “I hear it mentioned once in awhile but only in passing. At the market. At other gatherings.” Claire continued. “But just as it is mentioned, they change the subject. What happened?” “It is a long, and not very pretty story,” Jack stated after a pause. Claire simply shrugged. Jack looked at Jess, “Where do we start?” Jess thought for a moment. “The first town hall meeting,” she answered.

Beware of the guy with only one Cast Iron pan . . . he likely knows how to use it.

pilgrimtr wrote:Thank you Cast Iron, I will keep reading if you will keep posting And I won't scold you. unless you need it. pilgrim

No worries Pilgrim. Occasionally I need the kick in the posterior end to keep at it and stop looking at cookbooks.

I have the first town meeting written and a few re-writes, but it still needs something . . . Need to post it soon, least NK does something crazy, that in alone in itself is highly amusing. The first draft of the first town meeting I mention NK before all this craZy started in the real world.

Beware of the guy with only one Cast Iron pan . . . he likely knows how to use it.

pilgrimtr wrote:Thank you Cast Iron, I will keep reading if you will keep posting And I won't scold you. unless you need it. pilgrim

No worries Pilgrim. Occasionally I need the kick in the posterior end to keep at it and stop looking at cookbooks.

I have the first town meeting written and a few re-writes, but it still needs something . . . Need to post it soon, least NK does something crazy, that in alone in itself is highly amusing. The first draft of the first town meeting I mention NK before all this craZy started in the real world.

Here's your kick in the pants cast iron it's been a month Pilgrim

if someone tell you they are an expert, be leary of them. if they tell you they are knowlagable of something.trust them. Remember an ex is a has been and a spert is a drip under pressure. :)

pilgrimtr wrote:Thank you Cast Iron, I will keep reading if you will keep posting And I won't scold you. unless you need it. pilgrim

No worries Pilgrim. Occasionally I need the kick in the posterior end to keep at it and stop looking at cookbooks.

I have the first town meeting written and a few re-writes, but it still needs something . . . Need to post it soon, least NK does something crazy, that in alone in itself is highly amusing. The first draft of the first town meeting I mention NK before all this craZy started in the real world.

Here's your kick in the pants cast iron it's been a month Pilgrim

Sorry Pilgrim, I have been in China for the past month.

Still recovering from the jetlag.

Beware of the guy with only one Cast Iron pan . . . he likely knows how to use it.

I apologize for my absence. I was in China for the past month. Internet access was . . . interesting to say the least. Regardless, if you ever get the chance, by all means, go to China. Shanghai, Beijing were simply awesome. The Great Wall, the Forbidden City are a must see. The food was fantastic. I will never be able to have carry out and look at it the same ever again.

Here is the next episode. This is a flash back episode bear in mind. If I did not make that clear leading up to this, please let me know.Enjoy.

“Good thing we did not drive,” Jack observed as he and Jess walked up to the town hall from home. The town hall parking lot at capacity, people were forced to park their cars in the church parking lot across the street, some were even parking on the side of the road. It was early June. The sun was still well above the horizon, but it was going to be a cool evening. They both wore light jackets. As they passed the packed parking lot for the town hall entrance, a group of half a dozen smokers stood off to one side. “ . . . telling you it is a soft coup!” “How can you have a soft coup?” “Doesn't the military have to be involved for it to be a coup?” “Well, all I know is there were tanks and troops by the Washington Memorial.” “That got debunked twenty minutes after it got posted to the internet. You have heard of photoshop haven't you?” “What about the news video of troops outside the Capital building? The White House? Is that photoshop too?” Jack opened the wooden door for Jess and they walked into a small anteroom full of people. Most were in small groups or pairs talking among themselves. There was a short line for a coffee station in the corner. Jack leaned in close to Jess for her to hear him over the various conversations going on, “Would you like coffee?” She shook her head, “Lets make our way into the hall and find some seats before they are all gone.” As they slowly made their way through the crowd, they passed a older gentleman in some casual but designer polo shirt and slacks with a paper cup of coffee in one hand. “I am saying is to look at this as an opportunity,” he was saying to another man. “Sure. It is a correction. We all knew the market was overvalued and a correction was on the way. I am surprised it has not happened sooner. But this is the time to buy, not sell!” He lifted the cup of coffee higher to emphasize his point. “What about all the rich leaving the cities?” The coffee cup raised again. “The rich are not leaving the city. They are looking for an opportunity. Leaving the city is just an internet rumor, a hoax,” the coffee cup dismissed the idea. Jess lead Jack past the two men through a opening between a few groups as they neared the main hall door. “. . . canceled her sold out concert an hour before it was to start, took her whole entourage, got on a helicopter and took off. Something happened and the helicopter crashed in the harbor. The Coast Guard had boats out there around the wreckage looking for survivors,” a young woman was telling three others. “Why would she do that? She loves her fans! They are everything to her.” “I saw a post of a guy who runs a helicopter taxi service in the city. He said he has flown a lot of rich and powerful people out of the city and all the other helicopter taxi services are doing the same thing.” Jess and Jack made it though the door. Two men stood on either side of the doorway. “ . . . not just Chicago that is out. The whole region is without power. Everything from Milwaukee, to Chicago, all the way over to Fort Wayne. Parts of Michigan too.” “I heard it was a EMP attack by North Korea.” “Why would they attack the Mid-West and not the West coast, or DC for that matter?” “Who knows! That Kim guy is a loon. He had his girlfriend executed with an anti-aircraft gun. I dunno, maybe he hates the Cubs.” Jess and Jack walked down the center isle way. There were still seats available, but the hall was filling up quickly as six o'clock approached. “There,” Jack pointed. “Walt and Terry, next to Jerry and Cathy.” “Hi,” Jess said to them. “Are these seats taken?” “They are now,” Terry smiled. Everyone said their hellos as Jess and Jack took the two seats. Jess removed her jacket as the room was already warm and stuffy. “What have you heard,” Jess asked them as she folded her jacket and sat down. “Too much crazy is what I have heard,” Walt exclaimed shaking his head, leaning on his cane. Terry continued for him, “None of the news stations can agree on what is going on.” “A news station will report one thing, and not ten seconds later another station will report the exact opposite,” Jerry exclaimed. “I tuned into NPR earlier this afternoon,” Cathy said, “They are reporting just about everything all the other news stations are reporting, but saying none of it is confirmed.” “All of them keep replaying the videos of California and DC. There are a few new reports of similar incidents happening in other big cities too,” Jerry said. “Did you hear what happened to Dan Miller,” Walt asked. Jack shook his head. “Dan had just dropped off a truck load of scrap metal at the recycling plant just outside of the city. Well, he had to fill up his dump truck before he got back on the highway. While he was pumping diesel, a few hooligans came up to him and asked him where he was from. All he said was he was not from around there and they started beating on him. That is all it took. He was not from around there and they beat him for no go reason.” Walt shook his head again. “Not just Dan Miller,” a woman sitting in the row in front of them turned and said. “My sister lives in the city. She said there was a car load of people driving around, shouting and threating people. Even getting out of their car and waving around tire irons and baseball bats. They took off when the police came-.” A door to a side room opened and the town council filed in and took their seats, the room began to settle as everyone stopped their conversations, took their seats and waited for the meeting to begin. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming,” one of the council person said, a small plaque in front of her read Constance Curtshaw. She shuffled some papers, glancing around the full room. “Clearly this is not a normal town meeting.” If she meant it as a joke, no one picked up on it. There was a tension in the room. She glanced around again. She was clearly uncomfortable. “Let us not pretend. These are extraordinary times, troubling times. We, uh, we, the council have seen what many of you have seen on the news and the internet. We have reached out to the state authorities, but no one had returned our calls.” The hall burst into a cacophony of chaotic conversation. Jess and Jack just watched the council. Constance had to shout several times to get the crowd to settle down enough for her to continue. “We are . . . we are reviewing the town's emergency preparedness plan-” “What about the power outages in the Mid-West,” someone shouted. Several more people added other news reports. “We do not have any information on any of those events. We know just as much as you do from what is being reported in the news.”

An hour later the council quickly adjourned the meeting, and just as quickly left the main hall room. People were filing out of the hall, Jess, Jack and the others waited for the rush to thin out. “What do you think,” Jack asked Jess. “They are out of their element,” Jess said quietly. Jack nodded. “Lets get a few of our friends and neighbors together for a meeting. Tonight.”

Beware of the guy with only one Cast Iron pan . . . he likely knows how to use it.

I apologize for not posting as of late. Once the farm spun up, things got very busy.Currently, I am on goat kidding watch. With luck, I will have at least five new additions to the heard by the end of Labor Day (the irony of the name is epic). But some are looking like they could twin. We will see.

Regardless, I have not forgotten my duties to you, dear reader. I do have more to post. I just have to fit it in between work, hay, goats, and the rest. Winter is so much a better time to write. Most of the time, when I am done moving the livestock/hay/firewood/etc, all I want to do is sit and have a nice glass of Pinot Noir while listening to Dino (Dean Martin).

Thank you for your consideration.

v/rCI

Beware of the guy with only one Cast Iron pan . . . he likely knows how to use it.